


Whatever You Want

by navigatorsghost



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One)
Genre: Angst, Consent Negotiation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Secret Relationship, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 05:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30067512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navigatorsghost/pseuds/navigatorsghost
Summary: You'd think getting yourself killed by the Emperor of Destruction couldn't be this difficult, certainly not when your name ends in "Prime". Maybe Galvatron's just that dedicated to being unpredictable.Or maybe he actually cares....nah, surely not.
Relationships: Galvatron/Rodimus Prime | Hot Rod
Comments: 15
Kudos: 32





	Whatever You Want

**Author's Note:**

> I needed angsty OTP hurt/comfort, so here are the results for anyone else who might enjoy it. Rodimus and Galvatron, early-relationship, a little darker than I usually write this pairing though I promise it ends okay. Not in continuity with anything else I've written, at least for now.
> 
> Content notes: warnings for suicidal ideation, depressive thoughts and unhealthy approaches to relationships (on Rodimus's end at least, Galvatron is handling things much better.) All consensual; though there's no onscreen sex, only references to previous encounters.

Rodimus Prime was in enemy territory, and he was far more comfortable than he had any right to be.

He was on the Decepticon Emperor's personal flagship, but not in the brig, the interrogation suite, the places a captured Prime ought to have been. He was in the Emperor's own quarters, stretched out on his side across a decadently wide and cushioned recharge floor, hoping the universe wasn't watching him through the armourglass roof overhead.

His enemy, his nemesis, was right _here_. There was a war going on right _now_. If he fought, if he reached for the Matrix's power and did what he was supposed to do, he might be able to end it all - _right now._

But Galvatron wasn't doing what he was supposed to do, either. Instead they were lying side by side and Galvatron's hand, that feared right hand that wielded the most dangerous weapon in the galaxy, was straying across his armour with quite opposite intentions than causing him pain. Rodimus's sensornets prickled with pleasure, and he shivered guiltily.

He didn't know how this had gone from something he'd started in the hope it would destroy him to something that was actually making his life worth living. He didn't know when he'd stopped thinking of Galvatron as a magnificent, corrupted, ruinous force of nature and started seeing him as a living mech who had quirks and wants and feelings that it might even be possible to hurt. He didn't know when this - whatever _this_ was - had gone from a hail-mary suicide bid to something that might almost be considered a _relationship_.

Which was why, all things considered, it was probably high time he blew it up before it got any worse. And if he got personally blown up in the process, well... wasn't that what he'd been in this for from the start?

He could still feel all his combat protocols trying to kick online, a falling sensation in his gyros and an ugly, cringing pulse of fear, as he lined up the words he needed to say. He didn't want to say them. He wanted to bury everything else under this, to let Galvatron take the pain away and swap it for pleasure just as he always did, every time they met for this...

...yeah, it was the _every time_ part that was the problem, wasn't it? Because it was easy to fall for someone when you were letting them have everything they wanted from you. It was easy to believe someone was wonderful when you'd never disappointed them.

 _You've disappointed everyone else who ever knew you._

He _knew_ that the voice in his head shouldn't sound like Optimus Prime, because that wasn't fair to his predecessor at all, but it always did. It was right anyway, whoever it sounded like. Why should his nemesis get to be the only exception to _that_ rule? And on that note, seriously, how had anyone thought _he_ was fit to be promoted to a rank that came with things like _an actual official nemesis_ to begin with? Nothing and nobody had ever trained or briefed or prepared him for this. No wonder he was going about it all wrong, though quite _how_ wrong was probably still impressive, in the worst possible way.

He waited a little longer, all the same. Just to have a moment more of the golden heat that soaked into his frame as his enemy, his lover, caressed him with that familiar hunger that Rodimus had expected to be devoured by so long before now. He'd thought Galvatron's desire would kill him, or at least break him beyond repair. He'd thought that would be what Galvatron would _want_ to do. It had thrown off all his calculations from the very start when he'd survived, when he'd _enjoyed_ it, when Galvatron had offered him real, recognisable pleasure instead of just taking advantage of his masochistic urges...

And that was how he'd gotten hooked on this. And that was why he needed to know what would happen if he stopped doing exactly what Galvatron wanted whenever they saw each other, because unmasking the fallen Herald of Unicron - Rodimus shivered as he made himself remember _that_ little detail - was clearly the only thing that was going to break this treasonous spell. _He's a Decepticon. He's **worse** than a Decepticon. Stop letting yourself forget that._

_Make him show you what he really is._

And then maybe he'd finally get what he'd started this for in the first place. It was strange how much he didn't know if he even wanted it any more. He could feel his thoughts starting to slip and go under in a liquid, shimmering haze of pleasure, as the vortex force of Galvatron's desire pulled him in. Being so inexorably _wanted_ as Galvatron always made him feel was like a drug. If he was going to do this, he needed to do it now before he couldn't make himself do it at all.

"Galvatron?"

"Hmm?" 

"What - what would happen if I told you I don't want to do this right now?"

The hand that had been stroking enticingly down his spoiler went abruptly still. Something taut and battlefield-wary flickered in Galvatron's fields, and Rodimus's spark clenched. He was so cold all of a sudden. _No, don't ruin it!_ some lonely, needy, pitiful part of him screamed. _Take that back before you lose him!_

_No. I need to do this!_

His panicked indecision must have shown in his face and fields. Galvatron's expression changed - from the lazy, gloating warmth of the moment before, through surprise, to something unreadable that prickled on Rodimus's neural nets like impending thunder.

"My Prime," the Herald said, "what's _wrong?_ "

His voice was unexpectedly steady, unexpectedly _quiet_. Galvatron wasn't angry, at least not yet. And he wasn't forcing the issue... _at least not yet_. Rodimus let out a gasp of something wretched that felt far more like guilt than relief. "I just - I need to know," he said. "I need you to tell me. Is it okay if I tell you no?"

Galvatron frowned. " _Why_ would you tell me no? You come to me for this!"

"Yeah, well - so what happens if I want to see you, but I'm tired? What if I'm having a bad day and I can't stop thinking about it that easily? What if - for once I just want to be held?" His voice cracked at that because _oh Primus_ how he wanted that right now. More than he'd ever wanted Galvatron to break him, and _oh no he shouldn't have said anything after all,_ and now it was too late at least twice over and did he really have to ruin _everything_ he touched? "But the point is," because now he'd started this he had to finish it, "that I've been saying nothing but _yes_ to you since this started, but _yes_ doesn't mean anything if it turns out that _no_ was never an option.

"So... is _no_ an option, with you?"

Galvatron's engines rumbled, and he ran his hand down Rodimus's spoiler ridge again - but the touch wasn't charged now, only possessive, not erotic. "I told you before," he said, "that you could ask me for anything you wanted." His optics met Rodimus's, narrowed and bright. "If what you want is only to be held, or to talk, then so be it!"

"I'm hearing a _but_ ," Rodimus said, because it couldn't be this easy; even though he vividly remembered Galvatron _had_ said exactly that the first time they did this, but he'd interpreted it then as just _we can do this as hard as you like._ He couldn't have been this wrong, _everyone_ couldn't be this wrong about Galvatron, and he didn't want to leave anything lying around unspoken that might still blow up in his face. You didn't paint over rust. You sanded down to solid metal no matter how much it hurt.

"Only that I expect you to want _something_ from me when we see each other!" Galvatron's gaze was too fierce, too _honest_ , and Rodimus was surprised how much it hurt to realise that the warlord wasn't playing any kind of Decepticon mindgames. He was getting Galvatron's real thoughts and desires here, uncensored; knowing what he'd just done, it felt like a privilege he didn't deserve. "If you want nothing at all, then what are we doing?!"

"Well, as long as you count 'holding me and letting me complain about my day job' as _something,_ then I think we're fine on that front," Rodimus said, trying to sound flippant and not really succeeding. His mind was blank and he was pretty sure his mouth was running without it, but thankfully talking faster than he thought had always been one of his strengths. Yet again, Galvatron had deviated from the script in Rodimus's head like it wasn't even there. "I'm sorry, Galvatron. I just - needed to know."

For so many reasons, not least to find out that Galvatron was someone completely different than anyone - well, certainly anyone among the Autobots - had ever guessed at. In any possible universe they should have been trying to kill each other by now, or else Galvatron should have been-

No. He _really_ didn't want to think about _that_.

But Galvatron only growled quietly and nodded. "Then what do you want this time?"

 _I thought I wanted you to kill me but apparently I was wrong about that._ "I - I want you to protect me." Oh Primus, had he really said _that_ out loud?

"From what?!" Galvatron demanded, his voice abruptly high and sharp with alarm. Artillery capacitors whined as he powered his cannon, shockingly loud in the recharge room's quiet.

Rodimus shivered at that noise, so familiar from so many battles, terrifying even now. " _Hhh._ Everything, possibly including my own vocaliser." He groaned quietly and hid his face against Galvatron's shoulder, embarrassed and ashamed and guilty and still wanting this _so much_. "Sorry. I know nothing's actually about to attack us. But please - just this time - please hold me and let me not have to do anything." Of all the pathetic things to say, but he couldn't seem to shut off his vocaliser. " _Help_ me, Galvatron. I just - I _can't_."

" _Rodimus-!_ "

Galvatron pulled him in close, _fierce_ , and yanked a fistful of insulating blankets over both their frames. His weapon hand curled around the back of Rodimus's helm, pressed his face against Galvatron's chestplate with the cannon's charged whine still singing in his audials, a fearsome promise of what would happen to anyone or anything else that tried to touch him now. " _There,_ " the Herald said, his fields ablaze with determination. "You're safe, my Prime, and you can do as you like... or nothing at all!"

He still knew he shouldn't - but he _could_. He shuddered and went limp in Galvatron's grip, letting himself just _break_. No need to move. No need to speak.

No need to save the galaxy. Just for a little while. Couldn't he at least have that?

Then again, the single greatest threat to galactic order was currently distracted by petting his helm anyway. Maybe that made this okay. And like this he could concentrate on how Galvatron _felt_ , on the resonance of his engines and the heat of his frame, on the possessive weight of his hand that was so comforting...

He let the silence between them stretch. And stretch. And stretch. And still Galvatron didn't say a word, didn't fidget, didn't _move_. Just stayed, elbow hooked over the top of Rodimus's spoiler, hand on his helm, engines ticking over in a low, rolling idle that vibrated through Rodimus's frame and felt like it was working every single stiff and stuck and tense place in him loose a piece at a time...

//Galvatron?// Radio felt easier than moving enough for out-loud words to be audible.

//Yes?//

//...I may be about to fall asleep.//

He was still surprised, despite everything, when the emotion that washed through Galvatron's fields at that wasn't disappointment or irritation. It felt more like _approval_. //Sleep, then!//

The words, the permission, severed whatever thread was holding him to consciousness in a single stroke. //Th'ks,// he managed as his systems began to cascade into shutdown almost before he knew he'd told them to. //L'v...//

He was fairly certain he'd only fantasised his lover's lips briefly pressed to the crest of his helm, because surely that was too sentimental, nothing Galvatron would ever do. He probably should be concerned that he _was_ imagining things like that, but it would have to wait, because he was too tired to deal with it now.

For now, it was just a nice thought, and he was going to fall into recharge holding onto it.


End file.
